Scars
by quiller
Summary: Some old wounds can take a long time to heal. A Gordon story that follows on after 'Family ties' -Complete-
1. Prologue

Scars

Summary: some old wounds can take a long time to heal. A Gordon story that follows on after 'Family ties'

Authors note; this story starts about a year after the end of 'Family ties' and contains spoilers for that story. Being a Gordon story, it also links back to both 'Ordeal' and 'Olympic games'

I would like to thank Closetfan, Assena and Purupuss for their help with the geography in this story – never my best subject at school. However, any liberties I have taken are mine alone.

Standard disclaimer; I acknowledge Carlton plc as the copyright holders of the 'thunderbird' characters, and my thanks as always to Gerry Anderson and his team for creating them.

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Prologue

It was the early hours of the morning, with the sky just beginning to turn light, as the Tracy family returned to the villa. John, Gordon, Alan and Tin Tin threw themselves down on the sofas with a collective groan. Ruth Tracy looked at her grandsons, "Well, I don't know about you boys, but I'm not used to jetting halfway round the world – I'm off to my bed."

"Good idea, mother," said Jeff. He turned to the boys. "Alan, I want you and Tin Tin to take John back to the space station later today. Aim to launch about midday. That should give you all enough time to have a few hours sleep. I don't like International Rescue to be out of operation any longer than necessary."

Scott and Elizabeth entered the lounge, walking carefully. Jeff looked over "Is she still asleep?"

"Just about," said Elizabeth in a low tone, looking at the bundle in her arms. "If I'm lucky I'll be able to get her back in her cot before she stirs." She crossed the room, heading for their quarters.

Jeff looked at Scott. "You're luckier than we were, son. I remember once you woke up you'd be bawling your head off for hours."

"Aw, Dad!" protested Scott, to the laughter of his brothers.

They watched their father leave. John said, musingly, "You know, I think the Old Man likes being a grandfather."

"He certainly seems to be taken with his new grand-daughter," replied Scott. He paused, remembering the day they had brought the baby home. As he and Elizabeth had entered the lounge carrying their precious burden, the family had all crowded round to look, Grandma and Tin Tin making appropriate 'Ooh' and 'Aah' noises. Then John, from his picture on the wall, had asked if they had chosen a name yet. Scott had looked at his father. "We'd like to call her Ellen – if that's OK with you, Dad." There was a sudden hush. Ellen had been his mother's middle name, and he was not quite sure what his father's reaction would be. Jeff leaned over and peered at the tiny bundle, with its little fuzz of dark, curly hair. He put his hand on Scott's shoulder. "I'm sure your mother would be very proud, son." There was a moment's stunned silence. As far as anyone could remember that was the first time Jeff had made any reference to Lucille in his sons' hearing since her death. Since then he had started making more comments like the last one, as if having a baby in the house was reminding him of the happy early years of his own marriage.

Scott glanced across at Gordon and Alan. "You know, it suddenly occurred to me the other day – if John or Virgil had been a girl, you two might not even be here."

"Oh cruel fate!" said John, dramatically, throwing up his hands. The younger two pelted  him with cushions.

The discussion turned to the day's events. Virgil's wedding had been a grand affair in London. Jeff had made the decision to close down International Rescue for the day and the whole family had attended. So had most of the English aristocracy, or, as Gordon had quipped 'more –ships than you could fit into Pearl Harbour.'

"So," said Scott, stretching out his long legs and looking at John and Gordon, "who's going to be next?"

"Don't look at me!" exclaimed John in mock horror, "I'm a confirmed bachelor – after all," he grinned at Scott, "I've seen what marriage does to you!"

"Nor me!" said Gordon, "I'm the typical sailor, remember – a girl in every port?"

"Besides," said Alan with a smirk, "who'd have him?"

"True," replied Scott, "they'd have to have an extremely warped sense of humour -"

"No taste in men," cut in Alan

"And the patience of a saint" finished off John.

"Hey, guys, three against one – this isn't fair!" protested Gordon to their laughter.

As the laughter died down Alan looked at Tin Tin. "Well, if we've got to take 'bachelor boy' here up to the tin can at midday we'd better get some rest, so if you'll excuse us guys -"

Gordon vacated the sofa, leaving it to Alan and Tin Tin. The boys called their 'Good nights' as it dropped down the shaft. Following the strange circumstances surrounding Kyrano's death the previous year, Alan and Tin Tin had married a few months later. Tin Tin had requested a quiet ceremony, so the family had just taken a trip to the mainland where the couple were married in the local registry office. Once back on the island, by common consent Scott and Elizabeth had taken over the flat once occupied by the Kyranos, while Tin Tin and Alan had taken up residence in the Round House. Plans were already in hand to have the Cliff House ready for Virgil and Amanda on their return.

Scott also stood and stretched his long frame. "G'night then, guys, see you all in the morning."

Once they had gone, John stood and moved to the balcony. The early morning sun was just turning the tops of the cliffs pink. Gordon followed him. "Did you mean that – about staying a bachelor?" he asked quietly. He alone knew the reason John had never found a girl. "Haven't things changed now she's married Alan? At least you know she's happy now."

"I don't know, Gordy," replied John, leaning his elbows on the balcony rail. "It would have to be someone pretty special to take Tin Tin's place." He looked at his brother, "and she must never know – ever. If she or Alan ever found out, I would have to leave here for good – I wouldn't be able to face them again."

"Don't worry, bro'" said Gordon, "they won't find out from me. I gave you my word."

"And what about you?" asked John, glancing sideways at his brother. "Surely there's someone out there for you?"

"I'm not sure, John," replied Gordon "I find it hard to trust any girl – I'm always wondering if they've got some hidden agenda."

 "Not all girls are like that one at the Olympics – what was her name – Carrie?"

"Cassie" said Gordon, shortly. It had taken some time for him to tell John about the events at the Games. John had been shocked by his brother's revelations, but at the same time impressed by the maturity that his younger brother had shown. Since then Gordon had kept all his relationships on a strictly casual basis. 

John patted his younger brother on the shoulder. "Meanwhile, we bachelors'll have to stick together, eh? Come on, kiddo. I've got to get back to the station later today, and you're on duty for Thunderbird 2 if a call comes in, so we'd both better get some sleep."

The two boys headed down to their rooms.

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	2. Mine rescue

Mine rescue

When the alarm sounded, Gordon dropped the surfboard he had been carrying from the boathouse and ran up the steps to the house. In the week since Virgil's wedding they had only had one other call-out and he was eager for some action. He arrived in the lounge just in time to see Scott disappearing through the panel that led to Thunderbird One's silo. "What have you got for me, Dad?" he asked.

"A party of holidaymakers have got themselves trapped in an old gold mine in northern California. The local sheriff called us because he can hear water and he's worried that the mine might become flooded before they could be reached by conventional means. It sounds a fairly straightforward job. Take the Mole, but I don't think you'll need any back-up – I'm sure you can manage this on your own. John will give you the co-ordinates once you're airborne"

"F.A.B. Dad!" Gordon replied cheerfully, turning to the painting that led to Thunderbird 2. As the picture tipped he couldn't help smiling to himself. No wonder Virgil enjoyed piloting the big green craft when he got his own, private amusement park ride at the start of every flight.

When he arrived in Thunderbird 2 he swiftly checked the inventory and selected the correct pod then ran through the pre-flight checks. He might have the reputation as the family joker when he was off-duty, but when working he showed a professionalism and determination that had marked him down for rapid promotion during his days with the WASP. As he taxied out onto the runway he remembered being told by one commanding officer, "Tracy, you're going to make captain by the time you're twenty-five – that's if you haven't been keel-hauled first for one of your pranks!"

Thirty minutes later he heard Scott's voice on the radio. "Just to give you an update, Gordon. I've landed at the danger zone and we've managed to contact the people in the mine. It's not quite as bad as we first thought – there is some water coming in to where they are trapped, but it's not rising very fast, so they are in no immediate danger."

"How many are there down there?"

"Seven, of which two are injured. What's your ETA?"

Gordon looked at his instruments. "You should be hearing me in about ten minutes."

"F.A.B."

Soon Gordon was flying over the danger zone. He could see Thunderbird One, and nearby two vehicles: one a jeep, which he presumed belonged to the sheriff, and the other a minibus with the words 'Action Adventure Holidays' on the side. As he landed he reflected that the holiday-makers were probably getting a bit more action and adventure than they had bargained for.

Scott came on the radio again. "I've managed to find some maps of the mine that I'm transmitting to the Mole now. I suggest you start drilling at a point twenty yards north-east of your current position. The victims are in gallery 3, about eighty feet below ground level."

Gordon followed his brother's instructions and the giant drilling machine began to eat into the ground, spewing up dirt and rock behind him. Gordon wondered if there was any gold in the waste he was throwing out – that would give the next lot of visitors to the mine something to look for. He kept a sharp eye on his instruments as Brains' invention made its way down through the earth, until he saw that the drill bit had hit empty space. He eased forward, giving those trapped time to get out of his way, then stopped and climbed down from the cabin, to find he was standing in ankle deep water. "International Rescue here!" he called, waving his torch.

A figure approached in the gloom, dressed in overalls and wearing a hard hat. "Are we glad to see you!" The man, his face grimy with dust, held out his hand "Doug Reynolds, I'm in charge of this group." He indicated other figures, similarly clad, who were huddled against a wall.

"I gather you have some people injured?" asked Gordon, reaching into the cabin for his medical kit.

"Yes, they're over here, where we could keep them out of the water." He indicated two figures further down the passage. "Luckily one of our group, Meg Latimer, is a nurse, so she's been looking after them."

Gordon made his way over to the small group and crouched down. "What have we got here?" he asked.

A figure dressed like the others glanced at him through dirt-covered features. "Alison has a broken leg, so we'll need a splint for that. Gary I suspect has a broken clavicle. I've already put a sling on his arm, but I'd like to put him in a neck brace as well."

Gordon couldn't help smiling inwardly as he fished the necessary items out of his pack. Her voice and efficient manner reminded him of so many other nurses he'd known. He'd often wondered if they were cloned in some laboratory.

As the nurse tended to her patients, Gordon made a quick survey of the area, then turned to Doug. "I can't take you all in the Mole at once, so I'll take the injured and Ms Latimer on the first trip, then come back for the rest of you. If the water starts to rise any faster you can always wait in the tunnel I've made. I shouldn't be too long."

"Sounds fine by me" replied Doug. "Do you want some help getting the injured into your craft?"

"Yes, please. I'll bring a stretcher for the girl. I think the man should be able to walk, if he's helped."

With his passengers safely stowed in the back of the Mole, Gordon made his way to the surface. Once there, Scott helped him carry the injured girl out on a stretcher, while the sheriff gave the nurse a hand with the other patient and followed them out. 

Scott looked at the injured, then at his brother. "Why don't you take these two to hospital, while I go back in the Mole for the others? They can go home in the minibus. By the time you get back I should have the Mole back in the pod, so all you will need to do is retrieve it and then we can head home" He turned to the nurse. "Would you mind accompanying these people to hospital?"

The nurse shook her head, "No, I don't mind."

"OK, just follow us."

They made their way on board Thunderbird 2 and into the sickbay. This and the passenger cabin were the only parts of the craft to which the public were ever given access. 

As Gordon left the room he turned to see the nurse bending over one of her charges. "I'll be taking off in a couple of minutes, so make sure you're strapped in, but once we're airborne you can move around again." He pointed to a sink in the corner. "If you want to start cleaning them up there's plenty of water, and you'll find swabs and bandages in the drawers to your left."

She thanked him without looking up and he left. A few minutes later Thunderbird 2 was heading for San Francisco. Gordon contacted the hospital to warn them of his arrival and gave them a brief description of his patients. It wasn't long before he was touching down in a cordoned-off area of the parking lot. A group of medics were waiting to receive the patients, who were soon being wheeled off towards the building. Gordon watched them go, then turned to the nurse who was still standing beside him, as if uncertain what to do. "Thank you for your help, Miss." he said.

She turned to face him, a quiet smile on her lips.

"Haven't you recognised me yet, Gordon?" she said. 

Gordon looked at her, seeing her as a person, rather than a co-worker, for the first time. During the flight she had removed her helmet and washed the dirt from her face. "Megan?" he said, hesitatingly, "Megan _Riley_? But… they called you…"

"Oh, Latimer is my married name, and Meg is what my husband called me, so it's what most people know me as now." 

"Oh, you're married now?"

She shook her head, "Not any more. It only lasted a few years. Why else would I be on an 'action adventure singles weekend?" She paused. "Look, there's a lot I want to say to you, but I know you've got to get back to your brother – that _was_ Scott at the mine, wasn't it? Don't worry, I'm not going to tell anyone." She thrust a piece of paper into his hand. "Here's my number. I'll leave it to you to decide what to do about it."

With that she turned and walked towards the hospital. Gordon stood, looking after her, then, still in a daze made his way back on board and took off. All through the flight back to the mine, and then home, his hand kept going to the paper in his pocket, to reassure himself that he hadn't imagined the whole thing. 

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So, who is Megan Riley? You have met her before if you have been following my stories, though you may not remember her. Read on to find out who she is and what she meant to Gordon.


	3. Painful memories

Painful memories

The sun was just rising the following morning as Gordon woke up, grabbed his swimming gear and made his way down to the beach. Some mornings he would join his brothers for a pre-breakfast jog, but today he wanted to be alone with his thoughts.

He made his way to the headland, then dived in and swam across the bay and back. By the time he climbed out and dried himself the sun was just catching the rocks on the beach, so he sat with his towel draped round his shoulders, enjoying the warm touch of the early morning rays, looking at the sea.

He never tired of watching the sea. He loved its vastness, its ever changing moods and colours, the way it was never the same, yet always constant. He could still remember the first time he had seen it. He had been five years old when the family had rented a beach house for a month down on the Gulf of Mexico. He had been fascinated, and, according to his brothers, had only come indoors for meals and sleep. The holiday had been such a success that they had intended to go back the following year, but by then his mother had died, and life was never the same again. It was ten years before he saw the sea again. He had won his first Junior National Swimming championship, despite the fact that most of the competitors were older and stronger than him. The competition had taken place in Los Angeles, and when his father asked what he would like to do as a treat, he had asked, much to his brothers' amusement, to spend a day on the beach. While his brothers had splashed about in the waves, played on the beach or admired the young ladies strolling around in their next-to-nothing designer bikinis, he had sat and watched the swell of the ocean. It was then that he had vowed to make the sea his life, a promise he later fulfilled by joining WASP on leaving school.

The sea had almost become his death as well, when his hydrofoil had crashed at 400 knots in the round-island race at Hawaii. Without realising, he wrapped his arms protectively around his legs as the painful memories came back. Next to his mother's death, that was probably the worst time in his life, and he still did not like to think about it. He had woken from a coma to find himself pinned in a body brace that was holding in place the fragments of his limbs as they knitted together. He knew he was lucky to be alive at all. If he had not been wearing the body armour that Brains had designed, then his spine and ribs would have been smashed from the impact, crushing his heart and lungs. He had spent the next four months trapped in a hospital bed.

Megan Riley had been one of the nurses on the ward. She normally worked the night shift, and, if there were no other demands on her, would often sit talking quietly with him in the long night hours when he found himself unable to sleep. For an active person like Gordon, the ten weeks he spent in the body brace had been tedious, frustrating and at times, downright humiliating, but they were a picnic compared to the period of rehabilitation that followed. He shivered, hugging himself tighter. Not even John, who had spent most of that first month of rehab with him, knew just how bad it had been. He had been told that he would be weak once the body brace was removed, and he had accepted the fact that he would not be able to walk immediately, but he had not expected to find that he could not even sit up unaided, grasp objects, or even turn over in bed without help. He was more helpless than a new-born baby.

First had come the nightmares. While in the body brace he had been on nerve blocks and had had no sensation from his limbs at all. His dreams had all been quite pleasant – of swimming, flying, even floating in space. Once the brace was off and he found himself helpless his subconscious provided a series of nightmare scenarios of being buried alive in avalanches or pinned under fallen debris. Megan, alerted by his increased heart-rate on her monitor screen would wake him and soothe him like a child until his fears subsided.

His solution had been to redouble his efforts at his physiotherapy sessions, pleading for extra time in the pool – the only place he could move freely – and practising his exercises when he was on his own, either in bed or sitting in the hated electric wheelchair in the hospital grounds.

At one point early on in his rehab, John had brought in a book and left it by his bed, saying "Read it". The book was the autobiography of a guy called Lance Armstrong, a sportsman who had lived at the beginning of the century. At first Gordon couldn't see the point – the guy was a cyclist, for heaven's sake – what did that have to do with him? Then he came to the point where the author had been diagnosed with cancer (which in those days could be a death sentence) and followed with his description of his treatment and subsequent rehabilitation. One sentence had jumped out at Gordon, 'Pain is temporary, quitting lasts forever' and this became something of a mantra for him as he tackled his exercises, slowly regaining his strength.

His body's response to this had been a series of bone-racking night cramps. He would wake biting his lip to keep from screaming, as his newly-strengthened muscles seemed to be trying to snap his limbs to fragments once more. Again Megan would be there, massaging his contorted limbs, and bringing him drinks to restore his fluid levels, at the same time as chiding him for not taking care of himself properly.

After one painful bout she had brought him a drink and was helping him hold it (at that time he still could not hold anything as heavy as a glass of water). She could not be bothered to put the back-rest on the bed up, so was sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning his body against hers for support. "You've been overdoing it again," she scolded, gently.

"I've got to," he protested, "I can't bear being so helpless."

"Gordon, this phase won't last for ever. These things take time, but you will get there in the end."

"Meanwhile, I'm lucky I've got you here to look after me." He turned his head to look at her. She was so close - he couldn't resist the urge and kissed her cheek. She pushed him away, though gently. "Don't you get fresh with me, young Gordon." (She was two years his senior, a fact he was constantly teasing her about.)

"I thought it was traditional for patients to fall in love with their nurses?"

"Maybe it is. That's why I have this rule – I never go out with any of my patients."

On his last night in the ward, he had asked if she would like to go snorkelling with him. He had been shocked to discover that though she lived surrounded by some of the most beautiful seas in the world, she had never explored underwater. He would be spending the next month attending physiotherapy as an out-patient, but would still have some free time to himself. After months of following a hospital routine, he was quite looking forward to it. She had agreed to go with him, but only on the understanding that is was on a 'friends only' basis. A date was set for her next day off, and they arranged to meet down at the harbour. The boat hire firm were obviously a bit shocked when the person who had booked one of their small speed-boats had turned up on crutches, and he suspected that if he had not been accompanied by an able-bodied, attractive, and very assertive young woman that they might not have let him take the boat. They had travelled round to one of his favourite bays, where he had shown Megan how to use the equipment and they had spent the afternoon exploring the underwater scenery. Megan had been impressed with the ease with which he moved through the water – she had only ever seen him moving awkwardly on land. The problem came when he tried to get back in the boat. He made several attempts to climb the ladder, only to slip back as soon as his body was no longer supported by the water. Eventually Megan boarded the boat first, and with a lot of heaving and pulling finally managed to yank him on board. They ended up in a pile of arms and legs in the bottom of the boat, with him lying on top of her, his face inches from hers. There was a pause, then she looked him in the eye. "Don't even think about it." she said, sternly.

"I'm not your patient any more," he protested as he rolled away and sat up.

"No," she replied, also sitting up, "but you're only going to be here for another few weeks. You've already told me that WASP will be transferring you to Marineville once you return to duty. That's no basis for starting any sort of relationship. Come on, don't spoil what's been a lovely day. I'll be your friend, but that's all."

They had been snorkelling again several times in the weeks that followed, and for a couple of meals, but nothing had ever developed. He was finally discharged as an out-patient when Frank, the physiotherapist, found him amusing the younger patients in the physio unit by doing handstands on his crutches. He had returned home for another month's convalescence and had never seen Megan again – until yesterday.

A touch on his shoulder made him jump, and he looked round to see Scott standing beside him. He had been so lost in his memories that he had not even heard his brother approach.

"Hey, Gordon, we were starting to wonder what had happened to you. Alan reckons you're swimming for the mainland. Did you know you'd missed breakfast?"

Gordon looked at his watch and realised that he had been sitting there for two hours. "Sorry, Scott. Guess I just lost all track of time. I've got a lot on my mind."

Scott nodded, and leaned against a nearby rock, his arms folded across his chest. "I thought you seemed quiet yesterday evening. Anything I can help with?"

Gordon stared out to sea, his arms still wrapped around his legs. "Do you believe in Fate, Scott?"

Scott looked startled. This was not the sort of question he normally heard from his most laid-back of brothers. "What makes you ask that?" he said, cautiously.

"Do you remember Megan Riley? She was one of the nurses at Kane Hospital, after my accident."

Scott thought back – it had been ten years. "Megan? Yes, I remember her. Small, round face, light brown hair, nice…" he broke off. "Holy cow! Not the nurse at the rescue yesterday?"

Gordon nodded

"Did she recognise you?"

His brother nodded again. "She recognised both of us."

Scott gave a low whistle. "That puts the cat among the pigeons. What are you going to do? Are you going to tell Dad?"

"She left me her number. I'm going to see her. Did you know I tried to date her once I was out of the hospital? She wouldn't go."

"She turned me down too," said Scott, pulling a wry face, "said it wouldn't be 'right.'"

"Hey," protested Gordon, "what happened to the 'no poaching' rule?"

"You were still in that body brace at the time. Besides, I saw her first."

"Only because I was in a coma," shot back Gordon. "Anyway, as far as I'm concerned Megan Riley is 'unfinished business', so I'm going to see if I can pick up where I left off."

"Gordon, are you serious here? You haven't seen this girl, or tried to contact her for ten years, and now you want to go out with her?"

Gordon shook his head slowly. "That's what I meant by Fate. If I hadn't seen her yesterday, then it wouldn't have bothered me. But if Fate, destiny or whatever you want to call it has made our paths cross, then I don't think I should ignore it." He stood up. "Come on, let's go and see if you gannets have left me anything for breakfast!"


	4. New beginnings

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New beginnings

Gordon stood on the doorstep of a small, two-storey terraced house in a quiet suburb of San Francisco, trying to resist the urge to polish the toe of his shoe on his trouser leg. He hadn't felt this nervous about a date since he was fifteen. Not that this was really a date – when he had phoned Megan the day after the mine rescue she had suggested he come round to her home as it would be easier to talk there, so they had fixed it for the Sunday after Virgil had returned home. Gordon – who usually dressed in the first things he could grab from his wardrobe – had even asked Alan's advice on clothes, so now found himself feeling like the proverbial dog's dinner, attired in a short-sleeved pale green shirt, brown slacks and a tan suede jacket.

The door opened, and Megan stood there before him. "Hi there, Gordon" she said, with a shy smile. "Oh, what lovely flowers!" She took the bunch he had bought on impulse as he left the airport. "Come on in, I'll just put these in some water."

He followed her through to a sitting-room, watching as she busied herself in the kitchen alcove that opened off to one side.

She returned a moment later with the flowers in a vase, which she put on the mantelpiece. "Here, let me take your jacket. Would you like some coffee?"

"Thanks, that would be lovely." Gordon wasn't going to admit how dry his mouth felt.

As Megan turned back towards the kitchen area she called out. "Molly, dear, would you like another drink?"

A small figure with a mass of red curls came running in, then stopped when she saw Gordon, looking up at him shyly.

Gordon crouched down in front of her. "Hallo, Molly. My name's Gordon. I'm an old friend of your Mommy's." He paused, fishing a coin out of his pocket. "Want to see some magic?" The small figure nodded, watching cautiously as Gordon palmed the coin, then produced it from behind his ear. Her face broke into a smile. "Want to see it again?" This time Molly nodded eagerly. Gordon palmed the coin again then said "Where do you think it's gone now?"

Molly pointed to his ear, but he shook his head and proceeded to extract it from behind her ear instead. By now Molly's eyes were round with astonishment.

Megan came up behind him. "I think you've made a friend there, Gordon. She's usually quite shy with strangers. Molly, do you want some more drink for your tea party?"

"No thanks, Mommy, we've finished now. Can I go and play with Peter on the swings?"

Gordon looked through the doors at the back of the lounge. Just outside on the grass was a small tablecloth containing some miniature cups and plates. Round it sat a doll, a teddy bear and a large yellow rabbit with one ear missing. Further off, in the centre of the square formed by the block of houses was a small children's play area with swings, a slide and a climbing frame. A boy was sitting on one of the swings, pushing himself slowly back and forth.

"Yes, you can go. But come straight back here when you are finished."

"OK, bye now!" she went off at a run.

Gordon stood up as she left. "How old is she?"

"She's just turned five. She was two when her father left, so we just have each other." Megan turned back to the kitchen and returned with a tray of coffees, which she put down on the table. She handed him a cup. "Help yourself to milk and sugar. I'm afraid I can't remember how you liked your coffee." As Gordon reached for the sugar bowl she looked at his arm. "You can hardly see the scars now," she observed.

Gordon held his arm up for inspection. "Yes, you have to look pretty hard now to see them" he agreed. The needle-type marks that had once covered his arms and legs where the body brace had held him together were barely noticeable these days, especially as his skin was usually tanned from spending so much of his time on the island out of doors. He put down his cup and looked at Megan. "Megan, I'm sorry I never got in touch again after I left Hawaii. I did get the card you all sent from the ward when I won my Olympic medal, and I meant to write then, but things got a bit… hectic after that." 

"Don't worry, Gordon, we weren't expecting you to reply. You must have had so many cards. Frank put the photo you sent him up on the wall of the physio unit. He still uses you as an example to everybody as his 'star patient'." She paused and looked at him "I'm not going to say anything about what you do now, or ask any questions. Like the rest of the world, I think your organisation is wonderful, and I suppose it should have been no surprise to find out that someone like you would be connected with it - I came to know your family quite well during the time you spent in my ward. When I saw you at the mine last week, your talk while you were recovering about leaving the WASP in a year or so and going into the family business suddenly all made sense – somehow I never saw you working behind a desk."

Gordon found himself blushing. He was used to being thanked by rescue victims, but this was more personal. "When did you realise it was me in the mine?"

"I thought your voice was familiar when you first spoke, but it was dark, and I couldn't see you properly. During the trip to the surface in your drilling machine I kept staring at the back of your head, thinking 'I'm _sure_ that's Gordon', then when you turned round I knew I was right. That was why I wasn't surprised when Scott came in. Mind you, I don't know if I'd have managed to say anything at the time. I kept wondering why you hadn't recognised me, then I when I was in your sickbay I looked in the mirror and realised that not even my own mother would have known me in the state I was in."

"I did think you sounded familiar when we were in the mine, but I suppose I was concentrating on the rescue, rather than on you – and, as far as I was aware I didn't know anyone called Meg Latimer." He paused. "It sounds like you've been having an eventful time since I last saw you."

"Well, the summer after you left I had another red-haired young man as a patient. Danny had been in a water-ski-ing accident. By the time he was out of traction I'd agreed to go out with him. Eventually we married and he brought me back here to San Francisco. When Molly was two he ran off with my hairdresser and now lives with her in Cincinnati. Now I work as a nurse for a local factory. It's not as interesting as hospital work, but it's office hours, which means I can be home for Molly in the evenings and weekends"

"I hadn't realised you'd had it so tough."

She smiled wryly. "That should teach me to go breaking my own rules."

He took her hand. "Megan, do you think we could start over? I'm not your patient any more."

She smiled  "Do you remember the last time you said that to me?" 

"When we were in the boat? Yes, I was thinking about it the other day." He held up his hand, his forefinger and thumb a fraction of an inch apart. "I was that close to kissing you."

She held her hand up, mimicking his, "And I was that close to letting you." They leaned closer, their lips almost touching.

Just then a small figure dashed into the room. "Mommy! Come quick! Peter's hurt!"

Megan stood up and headed for the French doors. "Do you want me to come too?" asked Gordon.

Megan hesitated for a second then nodded. "Yes, if you don't mind." They hurried across the lawn to where a small, dark-haired figure, who Gordon guessed to be a couple of years older than Molly, lay beside the climbing frame, his face creased with pain. Gordon was puzzled when Megan touched his arm, then pointed first to herself, then to a house on the other side of the square, and headed in that direction. 

Gordon knelt by the boy. "Where does it hurt, Peter?"

"Peter can't hear you," said Molly. "His ears don't work properly."

Gordon repeated the question in sign language. The boy's face lit up in relief and he started to sign back, gesturing to his ankle.

By the time Megan returned with another woman, whose worried expression marked her as Peter's mother, Gordon had finished checking Peter over. The woman knelt and began a rapid sign conversation with her son. Gordon looked at Megan. "Peter told me he jumped from the climbing frame and his ankle turned over. I think it's just a sprain – I can't find any other injuries. Do you want to take a look?"

Megan knelt and quickly confirmed Gordon's diagnosis. "Isobel" she said, turning to Peter's mother. "I agree with Gordon. I'm pretty sure it's not broken. Put ice on it for half an hour, then strap it up."

Gordon looked across at Isobel. "Shall I carry him to your house?"

"Thank you," said Isobel, "that would be very kind. It's this way."

Gordon scooped the boy up in his arms and followed the two women. 

Isobel whispered to Megan. "New boyfriend? Where did you meet him?"

Megan hesitated. "It's a long story," she said at last.

"Well, if you want me to baby-sit Molly for you while you go on a date, just say the word. He's _nice"_

Gordon followed them into a sitting-room similar to Megan's and laid Peter on the couch.

Isobel signed to her son. Say 'thank you'

Thank you, G-O-R-D-O-N spelt out Peter.

Gordon responded with a few signs, ending in a quick hand movement. Even through his pain, Peter gave a small chuckle and repeated the last movement.

"Thanks for your help, Meg," said Isobel.

"That's fine. I'll pop round tomorrow morning to check on Peter's ankle, but I think it should be OK"

They headed back across the square. "I hadn't realised you knew sign language," said Megan.

"Oh, Dad made us all learn when we were in High School. It comes in handy sometimes, when it's too noisy to talk but you can still see each other – even if it's only when we are running engine tests and everybody is wearing ear defenders."

"I know some signs, too," said Molly, proudly. "I can say 'doll' and 'cookie' and 'apple' and 'school'"

"That's very useful, Molly," said Gordon. "You keep learning because you never know when you might need it."

Molly looked at her mother. "Can I play on the swings some more?"

"Yes, darling, but be careful." Molly sat on the swing and watched as the two grown-ups continued towards the house. She poked her finger in her ear. No, there were definitely no coins in there now. She hoped she would be seeing Mommy's new friend again.

"What was that last thing you said to Peter? You made him laugh."

"Oh, I told him to call me 'Flash'" said Gordon, with a grin.

She laughed. "Isobel was asking where I met you. I wasn't sure what to say."

"Just tell her the truth." Seeing her expression he carried on, " You can say that I was a patient of yours a long time ago, then we lost touch until we met up again on an 'adventure weekend'. It's all perfectly true"

"Yes, like you 'work for your father'"

By now they were back inside the house. 

"Now, where were we?" said Megan.

"I think I was trying to ask if you'd go out with me now," said Gordon, taking hold of her hand.

 "Yes, I think I'd like that. I'm free most weekends, provided I can get someone to look after Molly."

"Fine, shall I pick you up next Saturday evening then? I'll phone nearer the time to make sure it's all OK."

Megan looked at the handsome young man standing in front of her.  "This is going to be strange. In one way we know each other so well, but in another, hardly at all."

Gordon bent forward and kissed her gently. "I'm looking forward to knowing you better."

Since the time he had left school, Gordon had never really bothered about days of the week. WASP didn't run on a Monday to Friday basis, nor did life on Tracy island. There were rescue days, days spent working on the machines, or helping Brains with some new project, and quiet days. Now for the first time he became conscious of counting off the days until each weekend - a fact that his brothers soon picked up on and teased him about without mercy. Saturday would find him taking off for San Francisco, where he would take Megan out for a meal, or to a movie or show. He would spend the night in a hotel and be back at Megan's on Sunday, when they would take Molly out to the park, the swimming pool (Gordon was teaching her to swim), the beach, or some other amusement, before he flew home in the afternoon. A couple of times he had to cancel – once a call had come in from and undersea mining operation just as he was about to leave and he had to ask John to contact Megan from TB5 to explain that he was being 'called away on urgent business': another time when he had just returned from eight hours fighting forest fires in Eastern Europe and was simply too tired to fly out again. Not that Megan had needed telling; by now she had become an avid news watcher – following every broadcast in case there was ever a mention of International Rescue. She was able to explain this new interest to her friends by saying that since they had rescued her from that mine she had a heightened interest in the organisation and its activities.

One Saturday night a couple of months later they had been out for a meal and returned to Megan's house. As usual, Megan invited Gordon in for a coffee. 

Isobel was waiting for them. "Hi, there, Isobel, how's Molly been?" asked her mother.

"Fine," replied Isobel, "haven't heard a peep out of her all evening. Well, I'd better be going. Good night!"

They sat talking quietly over their coffee. When Megan had finished she put down her cup and stood up. "I'll just go and check on Molly."

While she was upstairs, Gordon took the cups out to the kitchen and rinsed them. Megan came down the stairs, "She's fast asleep. Oh, thank you, Gordon, you didn't have to do that."

"That's all right; besides, my Grandma would skin me alive if I didn't!" He turned to pick up his jacket. "It's getting late. I'd better go and check into my hotel now."

Megan moved closer, putting her hands round his waist. "You don't have to go, you know." She gave him a long, slow kiss.

"What about Molly?" he queried.

"We'll just have to be quiet. Come on, you're not my patient any more, you know," and taking his hand, she led him upstairs.

A while later, Gordon murmured "You know something? I'm very glad I'm not one of your patients any more."

"So am I" came the sleepy answer.

Gordon lay awake for a long time, looking at the sleeping figure next to him. What was it about this girl that was so different? Other girls had been friends, someone to have fun with, but Megan somehow touched him on a deeper level. He remembered his conversation with John about 'hidden agendas'. Was that it? Did he feel for the first time that he had found someone he could trust? All he knew was that she aroused a tenderness in him he had never felt before – a desire to cherish and protect her, and keep her at his side.

The following morning Molly was delighted to find Gordon sitting at the breakfast table. "Uncle Gordon!" (he had become an honorary uncle some time ago) "you're here early!"

"Yes, your Mommy promised me a special breakfast of" he hesitated and looked at Megan who mouthed the words "pancakes if I got here early, and they're my favourite."

"I like pancakes too," said Molly. "Where are we going today?"

"Where would you like to go?"

"Can we go to Marine World?"

"What again?" put in Megan, "you've already been there twice."

"Yes, but Uncle Gordon makes it all so interesting."

Megan smiled at Gordon. "That's true, you do. I never realised that sea horses were so fascinating until you started telling us about the last time – and we weren't the only ones listening."

Gordon smiled at the memory. On their last visit he had been explaining to Molly about the life of a sea horse, and by the time he had finished and looked round he realised that he had several other children and a couple of adults in his audience as well.

Later that morning, while Molly was staring in awe at a squid in one of the cases, Gordon whispered to Megan "Do you have any leave owing to you from work?"

"Yes," she replied, I was thinking of taking a week off later this month."

"Well, would you and Molly like to come to our island for a visit? I'll have to clear it with Dad first, but I'm sure he'd agree, and I think Molly would love it."

"That sounds a lovely idea."

A few weeks later, Gordon and Megan ran up the beach and threw themselves down on their towels, laughing. "You cheated!" gasped Gordon, breathlessly.

"True. How else could I expect to beat you?" She sat up, rubbing herself dry, and looked along the beach to where Molly and John were investigating the contents of a rock pool. "This has been a lovely week. I know Molly's had a wonderful time, and so have I. It seems to have gone so quickly – we only seem to have been here a couple of days, and tomorrow you'll be taking us home. And we won't see you next weekend, will we?"

"No, that's when I'm going on to New Zealand for my canoe trip. We're going to canoe down the Rangitata river. It's supposed to have some great rapids"

"This is with your WASP buddies?"

"That's right. Barbara and Michael are old pals from my WASP days. You might even have met them – they came to visit me while I was recovering from my accident."

Megan shook her head. "No, the only ones I remember were your family. Most other visitors used to come during the day and had left by the time I came on duty. Where are you meeting them?"

 "We're meeting at Port Lyttleton, near Christchurch. Michael married a girl called Zoe last year. She's a Kiwi, so he got a land job at the WASP base at Devonport. They're flying down to Port Lyttleton to meet us there. Barbara's ship – she's a captain now – will be in dock. The others in the party are from the ship as well, Stephen, who I gather is Barbara's new boyfriend, and a girl called Cat, neither of which I've met. We're flying upriver and spending a couple of days travelling down by canoe. I would have asked you to come, but the Rangitata is rated Grade Five, and the grades only go to six, so it's definitely not for beginners."

Megan shook her head, laughing, "Gordon Tracy, don't you get enough thrills from your job that you have to go hunting for more?"

He grinned sheepishly. "I know. John calls me an 'adrenaline junkie'. But I'm not the only one – Scott and Alan are just as bad!"

She leaned forward and kissed him. "I wouldn't have you any different."

He lay back, reaching up and running his finger lightly down her arm. "Megan, I've been trying to work out why you are so special to me."

"And did you come to any conclusion?" she replied softly, unwilling to break his mood.

"I'm not sure. Maybe it's because I feel I don't have any secrets from you." He paused, shaking his head, "I'm not talking about the rescue business here. I think it's that I know you've seen me at my worst, so I have nothing to hide from you."

"What do you mean 'I've seen you at your worst'?" she queried, gently.

"In the hospital, of course."

 Megan shook her head. "No, Gordon, you're wrong there. I saw you at your best. Any man who could go through what you did and survive without any bitterness has got to be a very good person. Any man who went through what you did, and later goes on to face danger again on a regular basis for no personal reward, knowing from first hand experience what the consequences could be, has got to be a truly remarkable person." She held his gaze for a long moment before moving towards him.

Molly looked up from her place by the rock pool. "Looks like Mommy's kissing Uncle Gordon _again_" she said with the world-weariness only a five-tear old can muster.

John tried hard not to smile. "Does she do that a lot?"

Molly nodded sagely. "Sometimes. Sometimes they're kissing when I go to bed, and they're still kissing when I get up. You know, Uncle John, sometimes I think they spend _all night_ kissing."

John's face muscles were beginning to ache. "Do you like Uncle Gordon?"

Molly nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, he's fun. He's always finding things in my ears."

John nodded, "Yes, Gordon's clever at things like that."

 "I think Mommy likes him more, though." Molly looked along the beach again. "They've finished kissing now. Do you think they'd like to see my new starfish?"

"Yes, I'm sure they'd love to." John watched the small figure trot down the beach, a bucket clasped carefully in both hands. Being an honorary uncle could be quite entertaining at times.

"Mommy! Look what I found!" 

Megan peered in the bucket to see a blue and yellow starfish lying at the bottom, its arms waving gently. "That's pretty, darling."

Molly pushed the bucket towards Gordon "Is it a boy starfish, or a girl starfish?" she queried the man who (as far as she was concerned) knew everything there was to know about marine life.

Gordon hesitated for just a second. "I think it looks like a boy starfish to me."

"Good. I'm going to call him Henry."

"Well, when you've finished with Henry, make sure you put him back in the pool where you found him," put in Megan.

"Why?" said Molly, pouting.

"Because that's his home," said Gordon. "He likes it there."

"I like it here, too. Byee!" She turned and ran back up the beach, the bucket banging against her legs.

Megan watched her go. "Yes, Molly's really enjoyed this week. She'll be sorry to leave."

"Do you think she'd like to live here permanently?" asked Gordon, softly.

Megan turned to him. "Gordon, what do you mean by that?"

Gordon took hold of both of her hands. "Megan, would you marry me? Come and live with us here? You know how I feel about you, and your nursing experience would certainly come in useful from time to time."

Megan hesitated, then spoke. "I don't know if  I ever told you that when Danny proposed to me I said 'yes' immediately. After we broke up I made a solemn promise to myself that if I was ever in the same situation again, however tempting the offer, I would wait a whole week before giving my answer. And don't give me that look."

"What look?"

"That 'last puppy in the pet shop' look. You're asking a lot of me, Gordon. To give up my life, my home, my job, my friends. I did that once before for a man, and it all went pear-shaped. I've just about got my life straightened out now. Taking risks isn't a way of life for me like it is for you. I just need a little time to be sure I'm making the right decision. I'll give you my answer in a week's time."

"I won't be here then – I'll be in New Zealand."

"OK, call me when you get back and I'll give you my answer then." She looked past him along the beach. "I think I'll go and see if Molly has found any friends for Henry."

After she had gone, Gordon ran down the beach and struck out into the bay, swimming fast and furiously. '_You were so sure she'd say 'yes''_ came the mocking voice in his head. _'Bit of a shock to find that someone would turn you down, isn't it?'_

He took a deep breath and dived below the surface. At once the undersea world worked its usual magic on him. _'She hasn't said 'no' yet'_ a calmer voice whispered, _'she just wants time to think. Who can blame her? You're not the only one to have been hurt by a relationship – other people have scars too. Whatever you do, don't go acting like a spoilt brat or she certainly won't want you.'_

Lungs bursting by now, he surfaced. He looked towards the rock pool where Megan and Molly were bending over, examining something with great interest. He had waited ten years. He could wait another week.


	5. Old friends

Old friends

Gordon walked into the bar and then turned as he heard his name called. He walked over to where his friends were sitting round a table. "Sorry, I'm late, folks," he said, "it took me ages to find a taxi from the airport."

He greeted both Barbara and Zoe with a quick kiss on the cheek, and gave Michael a slap on the back. "It's good to see you guys again!"

Barbara turned to the man sitting next to her. "Gordon, this is Stephen Barrow, the chief sonar technician on my ship. Stephen, this is Gordon Tracy."

"How d'you do, mate," said the wiry blond man with a strong Australian accent as he shook Gordon's hand.

"Aren't there supposed to be six of us?" said Gordon, looking round.

"Yes, but Cat had to pull out. She pulled her shoulder last week, and she doesn't think it's recovered quite enough yet for white-water canoeing. She's very sorry to be missing out. She wants to hear all the details, so I promised we'd all have supper on board the day we get back. Would that be OK with everyone?"

There were nods all round. Gordon looked at Michael. "That'll be like old times for both of us, won't it Mike? How are you enjoying life on dry land?"

Michael grinned, "Well, it took a while to get used to, but it does have its compensations," and here he put his arm round Zoe's waist and gave her a squeeze. "Besides, life on board was never quite the same after you left the service. I'll never forget some of the pranks you pulled"

Barbara gave a wicked smile. "I'll always remember the time you put itching powder in Luke Morgan's wetsuit. I've never seen a man get out of a wetsuit so quickly – and then he jumped in the sea to get rid of the rest of it!"

"Served him right," replied Gordon. " He shouldn't have ratted on Michael over that poker game he used to run in the torpedo room."

"My favourite" put in Michael, his eyes gleaming at the memory, "was when you dialled up one of those 'adult chat line' numbers and patched it through to the ship's PA system to give us all a most unusual wake-up call."

Stephen looked at Gordon in admiration. "You didn't!"

"He did!" continued Michael, "We had nearly two minutes of a very sultry-voiced young lady telling us in great detail exactly what we could be doing with her if we weren't stuck in the middle of the ocean - "

"Followed" continued Gordon, "by the not-so-sultry voice of the captain, bellowing 'Gordon Tracy! My office! On the double!'"

"How did he know it was you?" queried Zoe.

Gordon shrugged. "Who else?"

Stephen wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. "So what do you do since you left WASP?"

"Oh, I work for my father's firm" said Gordon, glibly.

Barbara turned to her boyfriend. "You've heard of Tracy Transport?" 

"Of course – who hasn't?" Then the name clicked. "That's you?"

"No, that's my father. I just help out. R&D work mostly, testing new designs, that sort of thing."

Michael looked at Stephen "You know the SB scuba gear that came out a few years back? Well, that was Gordon's."

"You designed that?" Stephen's estimation of Gordon went even higher.

"Well, I helped. I did a lot of the testing," said Gordon, modestly. "Every time I turned blue, our tame scientist fished me out of the water and made a few adjustments, then threw me back in again."

"Yeah," said Michael. "Life's really tough on that island of yours. I remember from when we visited you a couple of years back. Lying around all day, trying to work out which palm tree will drop the next coconut."

"Yes," agreed Gordon with a smile, "it's a tough life, but somebody has to do these things. " He thought it was about time to steer the conversation into less dangerous waters. "So, what's the plan for tomorrow?"

"The helijet from my ship will be taking us upriver," Barbara began "so we'll pick you three up at the harbour helipad at 0900 hours. Michael has arranged all the gear."

"Yes," said Michael. "Usual drill. Each bring your canoeing gear, a change of clothes and a sleeping bag. I've got the canoes and general stuff that we'll have to distribute between all the craft – that's food, camping stove, map, radio, and emergency gear like rope, medkit, flares. There won't be much room, so pack light – oh, and if you were thinking of bringing a mobile phone, don't bother – we'll be well out of range where we are going." Gordon glanced at his wrist. Thunderbird 5 could pick up his signal from anywhere on the planet, but he didn't see any need to mention the fact, unless there was some crisis.

The following morning Gordon, Michael and Zoe were waiting at the helipad as the WASP craft touched down. Barbara and Stephen climbed down, followed by the slim figure of the pilot, who pulled off her helmet to reveal a young woman with short red-brown hair and freckles. Barbara introduced her to the group. "This is Vanessa. She'll be flying us up-river." She turned to the young woman. "This is Lt.Cmdr Michael Casey and his wife, Zoe." Vanessa gave Michael a swift salute and shook hands with Zoe, "and this is Gordon Tracy."

Vanessa took Gordon's hand. "Nice to see you looking so well."

Gordon looked at her, puzzled. "I'm sorry, have we met before?"

She shook her head, "Not exactly. I was the winch operator on the helicopter that pulled you out of the water after your hydrofoil crash. I must say, the sight of you really turned my stomach – arms and legs just aren't meant to flop about like that!"

Gordon smiled, "Sorry about that."

"No worries. At least when you won the Olympics I was able to go round telling everyone how I had rescued you"" She turned to the rest of the group. "You've certainly picked a great place for your canoe trip" she said with enthusiasm. "The scenery on the Rangitata is just awesome – I did some white-water rafting there a few years back. You should be in for a great time. Right – let's get this gear stowed aboard and we can be off."

It wasn't long before they were passing over open countryside. As they moved further into the hills, Gordon had to agree with the pilot's description of the area. The countryside was lush and green, much of it thickly wooded, and some of the mountains in the distance were still covered with snow, despite the fact it was now late spring. Eventually the helijet descended in a meadow of to one side of a fast-flowing river. "This is where I drop you off" Vanessa called out in a cheerful voice. "I'll see you all again at the pick-up point tomorrow night!" They quickly unloaded the gear and waved as the helijet took off and headed south again.

Barbara looked at her watch. "It's nearly midday, so I suggest we have an early lunch – that'll be one less meal to pack into the canoes."

After lunch they changed into their canoeing gear and set off. At first though the water was quite fast the banks sloped gently on either side up to grassland. Gradually that was replaced by wooded banks, then the banks began to get steeper, with only the occasional tree clinging at the water's edge. After an hour they hit their first rapids. As he rode the white water, playing with it, letting it carry him, then seizing control at the last minute, Gordon couldn't help but laugh out loud. He'd forgotten the exhilaration of riding a canoe that fought and bucked like a living creature. 'Adrenaline junkie' was he? Too darn right!

By early evening the party had ridden through three sets of rapids, and for the last couple of miles the river had been cutting its way through sheer cliffs, and looked likely to carry on that way for some time. Everyone was starting to feel the tiredness in their shoulder muscles, so they were quite relieved when Barbara suddenly halted and pointed to one side, where a bank about twenty feet wide sloped up from the river's edge to the cliff. A small jumble of rocks made a mini-headland at the downstream end.

"That looks like a good place to stop," she called. "It's not ideal, but we can't guarantee anything better if we go on further."

They paddled towards the shore and climbed out, pulling their canoes out of the water. Michael went off and came back with a handful of driftwood. "That pile of rocks acts as a natural breakwater. This should make a good campfire – not that we need it, it should be warm enough tonight, but it's always nice to have one at a camp."

They sat round the fire as night fell, swapping more stories about their WASP days and other canoeing trips they had done. Finally Barbara stretched her arms. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm tired. I think I'll turn in for the night." She paused, glancing at her companions, "and I suggest everyone checks their sleeping bag before getting in."

"You don't have to worry, Barbara," put in Zoe, "we don't have any snakes or dangerous wild animals in New Zealand."

"Snakes, no," said Barbara, looking at the auburn-haired man sitting next to her, "but we do have a Gordon. Last time he came with us on our trip through the Rockies I nearly found myself sharing a sleeping bag with a rather irate groundhog."

Gordon gave her a wicked grin. "Count yourself lucky I couldn't find a skunk!" then ducked as she took a swipe at his head.

As they all prepared for bed, Gordon felt his wristcomm buzz and stood up, moving out of earshot. He stopped by the group of rocks by the water's edge and sat down. Pressing the 'receive' panel on his watch he found himself looking at Alan's face. "Hi there, kiddo," he said, "everything OK?"

"Yes, all quiet up here. Just wondered what sort of a day you'd had."

"It's been brilliant!" exclaimed Gordon. "The river has some terrific rapids, and for the rest of the time the scenery is stupendous."

"Sounds like you're having a good time. How's the weather?"

Gordon glanced up at the sky. "It's been good today, but it's clouding over a bit now. What does it look like from up there?"

"Hang on a minute." There was a pause while Alan checked another screen. "Looks like a storm brewing, but from the cloud pattern I think it should hit further north than where you are."

"That's a relief. We haven't got tents – only waterproof sheets – there's a limit to what you can get in a canoe." He heard footsteps behind him "Sounds like someone's coming, got to go. Bye!"

Gordon turned to see Barbara approaching, outlined in the light from the campfire. "You OK, Gordon?" she asked. "You've seemed a bit distracted this evening. Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong – I've just got a lot on my mind at the moment"

 Barbara sat down on the rock beside him. "I feel a bit sorry for you being the odd one out. It's a pity Cat had to cancel at the last minute – you'd have liked her."

"Sounds like you're trying to set me up for a blind date," said Gordon, grinning.

 "And what if I am? What's wrong with a bit of matchmaking? It would be even more wrong to let a nice person like you go to waste."  
"Don't you think I can find my own girl?"

"Well, can you?"

"As a matter of fact I proposed to someone last week," he retorted.

"Gordon, that's great! And…?" she prompted.

"She's thinking about it. She's going to let me know her answer on Monday." Briefly he outlined Megan's circumstances.

"So, the nearer it gets to Monday, the more apprehensive you are starting to feel? I can understand that. What if she doesn't want to give up her life and come and live with you, what will you do? Leave your island and join her in San Francisco?"

Gordon looked down into the swirling river below. "I don't know. That's one of the things I've got to think about this weekend."

Barbara leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "She sounds a lovely girl, and I hope it all works out for you."

Together they made their way back to the camp and Barbara watched from her place next to Stephen as Gordon climbed into his sleeping bag on the other side of the fire. She had often suspected that his jokey exterior hid some deep vulnerability.  They'd been lovers at one time (too brief a time as far as she was concerned) but it had always seemed to her that Gordon kept any girl at arm's length, emotionally speaking. If some girl had managed to pierce that outer shell and finally get close to him, then good luck to her. She sighed, just wishing that it could have been her.

Gordon lay in his sleeping bag, his conversation with Barbara going round in his mind. What would he do if Megan's answer was 'no'? Would he be prepared to leave the island? Leave his family? He had no worries about whether he could find work – with his skills in nautical engineering and knowledge of marine biology there should be no problem. How would he feel about leaving International Rescue? When the organisation was first set up his father had made it clear that if one of them wanted to leave at any time then he would not stop them. But what would it be like, hearing about a rescue on the news, and having to wait to find out if his brothers were OK? How would he cope if one of them was injured, knowing he hadn't been there to help? 

The very fact that he was even considering this question showed how much Megan meant to him, and that he didn't want to let her go. When he was with her he felt… he paused, searching for the right word – complete? No, that wasn't it – whole? mended? No, _healed_. Yes, that was it.  He realised he was rubbing his arm where the marks of the body brace had once been. No, all the scars were gone now – even the ones he hadn't even known he still had. Still smiling to himself, he drifted off to sleep.


	6. A rude awakening

A rude awakening

Gordon was wakened by a shrill beeping. The emergency signal! The sky showed the cold, pale grey of pre-dawn, as he pulled his head and arm inside his sleeping bag, hoping his companions had not already been awakened by the noise.

Alan's face appeared on his wristcomm. "Thank Pete! I've been buzzing you for the last five minutes. I was beginning to think you'd gone into another coma." He paused, "Hey, why can't I see you? I thought it should be light down there by now."

"It is, but I'm in my sleeping bag. Why the emergency call?" he knew Alan well enough to now that his brother wouldn't use that signal for trivial reasons.

"How high are you above the river level?" asked Alan.

"Not very, we're on a shelving bank about twenty feet wide that slopes back to the cliff."

"Can you get any higher?"

Gordon poked his head out and looked at the cliff. "Well, it would be a bit of a scramble, but I think we could. Why, are you expecting a giant alligator to come swimming upstream or something?"

Alan shot him a withering look, but otherwise ignored the remark. "The emergency alert has picked up a flood warning for the Rangitata River. That storm last night dropped a lot of rain into the upper catchment area and now it's heading your way."

"How long do you think we've got before it hits?" Gordon didn't like the idea of being caught in one of these canyons in a flood.

"Hard to say. Maybe half a day, maybe only an hour."

"Right, I'll wake the others and we'll make for higher ground. I'll call you again when we're safe. Thanks Alan!"

His brother grinned at him. "All part of the service!"

Gordon climbed out of his sleeping bag, then picked up the radio and switched to the emergency channel. Yes, there was the flood warning all right. He took a deep breath. "Wake up, folks! We've got trouble heading our way!"

Swiftly he outlined the problem and they began to assess the situation. There was a small track about four foot wide, running along the cliff at a height of about ten feet. Zoe reckoned it was used by pony trekkers heading along the river in summer. 

"We can get up there," said Michael, "but what about the equipment?"

"Load it all back into the canoes," suggested Gordon, "we can use the rope to haul them up."

"Whatever we do, it had better be fast" put in Barbara. "Have you noticed, the river level has already risen?" and they turned to see that their bank was now only half the width it had been last night.

By the time the equipment had all been hauled up to the shelf those still on the ground were standing ankle deep in water. Hands reached down to help pull them up.

Gordon looked across what had been their campsite. "I just hope we're high enough when the flood hits."

Suddenly Michael gave a cry and pointed. "Oh my God! the radio!" They looked across to where the radio was hanging from a tree branch in the middle of their former campsite. "I put it there so it wouldn't get damaged. I meant to pick it up and forgot!" He started to lower himself down the cliff.

Gordon made a grab to stop him, but was too late. "Michael! Come back! It doesn't matter!" 

By now Michael was making his way through angry brown water that swirled up to his knees. He reached the tree and unhooked the radio, but as he turned back there was a loud roar. He looked upstream, then stood transfixed like a rabbit in a car's headlights as a wall of water ten foot high came rushing down the gorge towards him.

"_Michael!_" screamed Zoe. The watchers on the cliff looked on helplessly as his body was picked up like a rag doll and tossed around in the current. They saw him slam against the rocky outcrop where Gordon had been sitting the night before, where, by some miracle, he managed to cling on while the current raged past him.

Gordon bent down and quickly undid the rope that was tying the canoes together, then straightened up and looped it around his waist.

"You're not going in after him!" exclaimed Stephen, horrified.

"I'm not going to stand here and do nothing. I'm the strongest swimmer here – that makes me the best chance he's got." There was no arguing with that.

Gordon handed the end of the rope to Stephen. "Give me plenty of slack, then when I've got him, follow us downstream and try and reel us in." Then, kicking off his shoes, and pulling his sweatshirt off over his head, he lowered himself into the water, shivering at the icy currents.

Without taking her eyes off the figure in the water, Barbara spoke to Zoe. "Get sleeping bags and fresh clothes ready. Those two are going to need something warm and dry when they get back." The possibility of them not getting back was one she didn't even want to consider. She watched as Gordon let the current carry him downstream, all the time striking across to where Michael clung to the rock. She gave a sigh of relief when he reached his goal, but then gasped as she saw him remove the safety rope from his own body and loop it around Michael. Gordon looked round to where Stephen was standing almost level with him, holding the rope, and pointed downstream. She and Zoe picked up the clothes and sleeping bags and headed downstream along the narrow path. Gordon was making his way back, towing Michael's limp form, when some instinct made Barbara look round. "Gordon! Look out!" she called, pointing upstream.

Gordon turned to see a large tree trunk hurtling towards him like an express train. He twisted frantically in the water to avoid a collision, but at the same time turning to use his own body as a shield for his friend. The tree trunk missed him by inches, but then Gordon gave a yell of pain as a trailing branch caught him a glancing blow on the back.

"Gordon!" screamed Barbara as he disappeared beneath the surface. Three pairs of hands pulled frantically on the rope until, to their relief, one head, then another appeared above the water. They pulled the figures towards where they were standing on the cliff, aided a little by Gordon, who was managing to swim a couple of strokes with one hand, the other holding onto Michael's limp form. By the time they reached the edge, the water level was just three feet below the track where the watchers were waiting. 

"Here" gasped Gordon, pushing Michael towards them, "take him, quickly". 

Barbara grabbed Gordon's wrist and hung on tightly as the others hauled Michael from the water. "Can you get out?" she asked, anxiously, but after one attempt he slid back into the water.

"It's OK, mate, we've got you." Stephen had left Michael with Zoe and returned to help. He grasped Gordon's other wrist and they both pulled, but as his arms took his weight he gave a cry of pain and went limp. As they lay him down they could see the reason. The 

 back of his T-shirt was stained red with blood.

As gently as she could, Barbara peeled the T-shirt away from Gordon's back. The branch had made a jagged tear just above his left shoulder blade, piercing through the muscles like a primitive spear. He moaned softly as her fingers probed the wound. She turned to see Stephen returning with a small first-aid pack which he put down beside her, "I'll take care of Gordon," she said, "You go and see if Zoe needs a hand with Michael."

It was some while later when she sat back on her heels, having dressed his injury as well as she could, wrapped him in a sleeping bag for warmth and laid him on his side, wedging him so he would not roll onto his back. She had made a pressure bandage for his wound, winding the bandage across his chest to keep it in place. Another bandage secured his left arm across his chest, as she had realised that any movement of his left arm would exacerbate the wound. He seemed to be hovering on the verge of consciousness, occasionally moving his head and muttering. 

Just then Stephen approached, carrying a steaming mug and a bar of chocolate. "I thought you might need this," he said as he passed them to her. "I don't know if you realise, but none of us had any breakfast this morning".

Barbara took the mug and sipped gratefully, feeling immediately better as the hot liquid ran down her throat.

Stephen looked down at Gordon "How is he?"

"Not good" she replied. "I've done what I can, but he really needs expert medical care. He's lost a lot of blood and I'm worried about his breathing. I suspect a fragment of bone might be piercing his chest cavity." Gordon's breathing did have a nasty, wet rasping sound to it. She looked past Stephen. "Zoe, how is Michael doing?"

Zoe moved nearer, cradling her own hot mug in both hands. "One of his legs is broken. Stephen helped me to use a canoe paddle as a splint. I'm also worried that he might have some internal bleeding from where he was flung against the rocks. They both need to get to a hospital, and fast."

Stephen looked at Barbara. "What do you think we should do? Without the radio we can't call for help."

Barbara considered this. "There's an outside chance that my ship might have heard the flood warning. If they can't raise us on the radio they'll send the helicopter out to look for us, but we can't bank on that. Otherwise it'll be nearly twelve hours before they start searching for us when we don't make the pick-up this evening, and I don't think these two can wait that long." She looked up the cliff, then back at Stephen. "We've got a couple of flares on us, but no-one will see them from down here unless they are directly overhead. Do you think you and I could climb that?"

Stephen looked up. "We'll give it a go. Zoe, are you OK about staying here with Michael and Gordon? At least the river level seems to be dropping now, so you shouldn't be in any further danger from that." A movement caught his eye and he turned to see Gordon trying to loosen his left arm from its strapping. "Hey, mate," he said gently, "don't do that." He leaned over Gordon, then straightened up and looked at Barbara. "Does Gordon know anybody called Alan?"

"Not that I know of," she said, "why?"

"Gordon was just muttering something about Alan wanting to talk to him. I told him we'd tell Alan he was busy, and it seemed to quieten him down."

Barbara felt Gordon's forehead. He didn't seem to be running a fever – in fact his skin was cold and clammy. She suddenly remembered that one of his brothers was called Alan, but it still didn't seem to make any sense.

Up on Thunderbird 5, Alan stared at the console, his concern mounting. It was now nearly two hours since he had originally contacted Gordon, and there was still no word from him. He had tried several times to buzz his brother's wristcomm, but had received no reply, not even the 'busy' signal they could send if they were in company and unable to talk. Taking a deep breath, he pressed another button.

A screen lit up showing his father's grey features. "What have you got for us, Alan?"

"Father, it's Gordon. I think he might be in trouble." Swiftly he outlined the morning's events.

"Have you tried the emergency signal yet?"

"No, Dad, I thought I'd call you first."

"OK, son. Leave it with me." Jeff signed off, then pushed the button that would activate the emergency signal on Gordon's watch.

Above the river a shrill beeping filled the air. "Whatever's that noise?" exclaimed Stephen.

"I don't know" replied Barbara, but whatever it is, it's sending Gordon frantic!" Gordon was thrashing around, yanking at the bandage that held his arm across his chest. "Gordon, lie still, you'll hurt yourself."

Gordon eyes were open and staring. "Emergency!" he gasped out. "Must respond!"

"It's all right, Gordon," she said in a soothing tone. "The emergency's over. You just lie down. We'll look after you." Turning to the others she said "It seems to be coming from his watch. Must be some sort of alarm call. I'll see if I can turn it off." 

As she bent over him she was startled to hear another voice. "Gordon! This is your father. Answer me! What's going on down there?"

"It's coming from his watch!" she exclaimed.

"His watch is a phone? How does he dial out?" queried Zoe.

"Don't forget, his father's loaded," put in Stephen, "They've probably got all sorts of gadgets that aren't even on the market yet. The main thing is, if it's a phone, can we use it?"

Jeff looked at Gordon's portrait on the wall. Still no reply from the boy. Maybe he was incapacitated or – no, he didn't want to finish that thought. He pressed the button again. "Hallo. Can anyone hear me? If you can hear this message, please press the green panel on the side of Gordon's watch. I repeat, the green panel."

Much to his relief, the portrait suddenly came to life, showing a young woman looking grim and dishevelled. "Thank heavens!" He looked closer. "It's Barbara, isn't it? Where's Gordon? What's happening?"

Barbara swallowed nervously. On the few occasion she had met Gordon's father she had always found him a bit intimidating. "Gordon's here, Mr Tracy, but he's injured." She tipped the watch, assuming that the face somehow acted as a camera as well as a receiver. Jeff swallowed hard as his son's face, pale and unconscious, swam into view. The view moved again and he found himself looking at Barbara once more. "Tell me what's been going on."

Barbara gave a swift summary of the morning's events, ending with their present predicament. "So, Mr Tracy, we need help. Could you  contact the authorities for us?. Gordon and Michael need to get to a hospital as soon as possible."

He smiled at her reassuringly. "OK, Barbara, leave it to me. I'll see what I can do, then I'll get back to you and let you know what's happening. You just take care of those boys for me."

He signed off, then pressed the switch that would sound the emergency alarm. Scott, Virgil and John arrived from various directions, and listened as he told them the news. 

Virgil voiced the worry that was in all their minds. "Dad, Barbara and Michael know us – they've both been here. How are we going to rescue them without compromising our security?"

In the pause that followed, Amanda spoke up. "They don't know me, Jeff."

"Nor me," said Elizabeth who had come in behind Scott.

Jeff looked at them. "You'd be willing to go?"

Both girls nodded. "Of course."

"Right. Here's what we do. Virgil, get Thunderbird 2 ready for lift-off. Elizabeth, Amanda, you'll be our 'front'. You'll be the only ones to have contact with Gordon and his friends. Virgil can stay on the flight deck Off you go!"

 "Yessir" chorused the girls as they headed for the passenger elevator.

As the roar of the rockets died away, John stood before his father's desk.

"Dad, I'd like to fly to Christchurch. I want to be there when Gordon wakes up." As his father hesitated he pressed home his argument. "I'll take one of the light aircraft and be there as Gordon's brother, not as International Rescue. His friends know you are the one who is arranging for their rescue – won't they think it odd if one of us isn't there to meet them? You know what Gordon's like with hospitals. I think one of us should be there."

"And that one should be you?" Jeff smiled. He knew how close John was to his younger brother, especially after his hydrofoil accident. "Go on then, son."

"Thanks, Dad!" John turned and sped out of the room.


	7. Déjà vu

Déjà vu

Gordon opened his eyes to realise he was lying on his front on what was presumably a hospital bed. The smell of hospitals was the same the world over, and one he would never forget. He was bare to the waist but seemed to have some sort of strapping across his back. He lifted his head to see his blond older brother dozing in a chair beside his bed. The movement, however, had been an unwise one, as a stab of pain shot through his back causing him to give a small groan. The sound caused John to open his eyes, and he smiled down at Gordon. "Hey there, kiddo, take it easy now" he said, softly, " How are you feeling? Thirsty?"

Gordon nodded, more cautiously this time. John helped him up and offered him a drink from a beaker with a straw.

Gordon smiled at his brother, thinking back to the time after his hydrofoil accident. "You know, I get this feeling we've been here before."

"Do you remember what happened?" asked John.

Gordon thought. "The river – the flood. How's Michael? Is he OK?"

"He will be, thanks to you. He's in the next ward. Zoe and the others are with him, but before you see them I'd better fill you in on what happened." Briefly, he gave Gordon an account of the rescue.

A couple of days later Gordon was already starting to feel constrained by the hospital atmosphere. At least the doctor had promised he could go home by the end of the week, though had warned him not to do anything strenuous for at least another month. John had left that morning, promising one of the others would drop in soon. Zoe popped in occasionally, but was spending most of her time, naturally enough, with Michael. He was pleased when he looked up to see Barbara and Stephen standing in the doorway. 

"Hallo, Gordon," said Barbara, approaching the bed, "how are you feeling now?"

Gordon gave a wry smile. "It still feels like I've been run over by a truck."

"Don't worry, we got its number." said Stephen, cheerfully. "That's what you get for being a hero"

Barbara put a bag she had been carrying down by the bed. "We flew back up to the campsite this morning to retrieve our gear. A lot of yours was ruined of course, but we've brought back what we could salvage." 

Stephen spoke "Vanessa flew us up there - I was telling her about how we were picked up by International Rescue. She was very impressed when she saw the cliff – she reckons they must have great pilots and machines to be able to get so close to that ledge. You don't remember any of that, do you?" 

"No, I don't remember that at all," said Gordon, carefully suppressing a smile. 

"Aw, it was really something. There was this huge great airplane, and then these two gorgeous looking girls came down out of it in an elevator, whisked you away, then Michael, and then came back for the rest of us. You must have been in some sort of sickbay, I suppose, because we didn't see you again until they dropped us all here at the hospital."

Just then the door opened again and Scott stood there, "I've brought someone to see you" he said, then moved aside to reveal Megan standing in the doorway.

Barbara saw Gordon's expression change. "Is this the one you were telling me about?" she asked, softly. Gordon nodded. She stood up. "Come on, Stephen, we'd best be going."

Gordon had a sudden wicked impulse. "Hey, Stephen, why don't you tell my brother Scott about those gorgeous girls from International Rescue? I'm sure he'll be fascinated."

With impish glee he watched Stephen begin an animated conversation with Scott, before turning his attention to Megan as she approached his bed.

She stood looking down at him, her hands on her hips. "Gordon Tracy" she said with mock severity, "what am I going to do with you? Do you have a thing about hospitals – or just a thing about nurses?"

"No," he said, smiling as he took her hand, "just a thing about this particular nurse. It's lovely to see you."

She took his hand in both of hers as she sat on the edge of the bed. "Scott came and picked me up. Your brothers are still looking after you. I got fed up of waiting for you to come back from New Zealand - honestly, the things some people will do to get out of making a phone call! - so I thought I'd better come here and give you my answer."

"Which is…?"

"It's 'yes'. Of course it's 'yes'. Did you ever doubt that it would be? Mind you, it looks like you're going to need me around anyway to look after you."

"But that will mean I'll be your patient again, which means.." his voice trailed off, but he grinned at her wickedly.

"I think in your case I'll make an exception to my rule." She bent forward to kiss him. 

As Gordon put his arms around Megan to embrace her, he felt the pull on the damaged muscles of his back. The doctor had warned him that he might end up with a scar there. The thought didn't worry him. All the old scars were gone.

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Author's note: this will be the last story in the sequence that began with _Sight unseen_ and continued through the _English symphony _trilogy – unless, of course, my Muse has other ideas. Once again I would like to thank everyone who has helped me, and all of you who left me reviews.

Q 


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